


The Grimm Who Fell for The Blutbad

by typewrittencurlie



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alpha Monroe, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Animal Traits, Animal Transformation, BAMF Monroe, BAMF Nick, Background Relationships, Blutbad, Bottom Nick Burkhardt, Creative License, Dead Juliette Silverton, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Full Moon, International Fanworks Day 2021, Intersex, Interspecies Relationship(s), Knotting, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Violence, Mpreg, Not Canon Compliant, Omega Nick, Post-Season/Series 01, Protectiveness, Scenting, Shapeshifting, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, True Love, True Mates, Wesen, eventually, interspecies children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29389593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typewrittencurlie/pseuds/typewrittencurlie
Summary: A story that is certainly not all it appears, and neither is a certain Grimm, or the Blutbad he couldn't help but fall for.A family is found and a divergent path discovered as the lines become so very blurred between Grimm and Wesen, human and inhuman,  friend and lover.Follow the wolfsbane lined path, but watch out for the pups playing among the fragrant flowers.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nick Burkhardt & Monroe, Nick Burkhardt/Monroe, Rosalee Calvert & Theresa Rubel
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	1. This Really Isn't Healthy

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly Do Not Know what inspired this but I hope you enjoy...
> 
> A few notes: 
> 
> 1.) I took a few liberties with strict biological make ups, and a few other liberties I'll attribute to creative licence. 
> 
> 2.) There will be smut. Not apologizing, don't like, don't read. As in there's (albeit lonely) smut in the first chapter. And it only gets more intense from there.
> 
> 3.) I based a few of Nick's characteristics close to home. Nick isn't me, but I can empathize with his feelings. Please be kind.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this, even a portion of as much as I'm enjoying writing this.

> _..._
> 
> _"Juliette!"_
> 
> _..._
> 
> _"No, please, God, no."_
> 
> _..._
> 
> _"Don't take this away from me... **Please**." _
> 
> _..._
> 
> _"I needed you..."_

### ~Monroe~

Nick still is torn up by what had happened to Juliette. I mean, I think we all are, on some level, and it's got to be hard, in that big house all alone. And he'd told me about buying a freaking ring. Then that damn hexenbiest poisoned her, and she died in his arms. 

But I can't imagine anyone coping worse than Nick. It's definitely not a great place to be, surrounded by the memories of Her. Not to sound harsh, but even for a Grimm it's a bit not good. 

So.

Well, me being the kind and caring Blutbad I am, I decide to check on my friend. I'd call him my best friend, if I really had more friends than just him. Sure there's "acquaintances" like Rosalee, and Hank, who got the full Wesen reveal after nearly losing his mind a little while ago. But Nick was different.

Well, it might be that I've been harboring a **_teensy_** bit of a crush on him for nearly a year. But I know he's not interested in someone like me. Not like that. He's so gorgeous I simply just can't help but fall for him a little. Can you really blame me, though? I mean have you ever **seen** his cheekbones? Perfection. Pure perfection.

It's never been something my wolf side could ever get over, this freaking crazy Grimm and his whirlwind of a life I got swept into. And for some reason he wanted to be friends with someone like me. Him, a chop-Wesen-heads-for-breakfast Grimm, wanted to spend time with me, a Big-Bad-Wolf Blutbad. And it's not that weird, overall. We have beers and watch football. And occasionally take out the Big Bad of the week that's preying on innocent people.

Well, normal aside from my barely repressed urge to run my fingers through his hair and make it even messier. Make his "just fucked" hairstyle actually because he'd been just fucked. Hmmn. I can't help but wonder if it's as soft as it looks.

I digress

I walk up to the particular house containing a certain Grimm, and I chew on my lip when I see how truly wrecked my friend is. His eyes are bloodshot and surrounded by dark hollows, as if he hadn't slept since It had happened. The thick, choking scent of heartbreak hung around him like a shroud, and I can't help the soft whine that slips from my throat. 

He's a mess.

And the inner wolf in me, the part of my mind that is all Alpha and insanely instinctual, he rears his head at seeing **"our"** Nick like this. I mean, Jesus Christ, I hadn't thought it was this bad. He's got to have lost more than five pounds in the week it's been since the hasty funeral. And Nick hadn't really had five pounds to spare, if you know what I mean.

I'm definitely glad I brought the makings for a really filling dinner, and an excellent '86 Burgundy that I had the urge to share. Maybe I can convince him that life might be worth living, even if She wasn't there. Because I really don't want to send him to the Farm that they'd sent my grandma to when I was a little pup. I don't think he could enjoy all-you-can-chase rabbits and wide open fields for miles.

I know Granny never went to a farm, but suffer through the euphemism for me, will ya? I was freaking five years old.

I must have gone through a thousand things to say as I hesitate in his doorway, and I settle for, "Hey." I can do worse, I have proof, ask my third grade crush. I look from the bags of groceries and the wine in my hands, to the mess of a Grimm trying to stay vertical. "I brought some stuff to make dinner…" I trail off, when I get no response. I muster every ounce of courage I have, and look in Nick's eyes. "I'm going to make dinner. Are you hungry at all?" I let a bit of Alpha bleed into my voice, something I never did. But man, Nick needed it.

I see his eyes flicker softly, and he smiles even if it's just a bit empty. A tiny, fragile thing called hope begins to make its home in my chest as he lets me in. The house seems like it's been kept neat, but I can **smell** the wallowing he's been doing this whole time. The entire house reeks of human despair. 

"It's good to see you, man." Nick sighs as his footsteps follow me into the kitchen, the soft sound eerie in the silent house. "It's been too quiet lately." I set the veggie steaks on the counter as he leans against the wall nearby. I swear if ghosts exist, they live in Nick's eyes. He's **haunted** by Her.

"I bet," I murmur, fussing with the packaging on the meat substitute as I rummage for the right thing to say. I huff, deciding the direct path was really probably best right now. "You know you're always welcome at my place, if the silence gets too loud." I give him a soft, hopeful smile as I prep our dinner, letting him warm up to the interaction before trying to engage in real conversation.

It's a few minutes later, after he comments on my chatter as I cook, that I try to start a conversation. "You know, I actually **do** enjoy your company Nick. It's not just saving the city…" I'm rewarded with a still slightly vacant grin, and he offers to help with the salad, much to my delight. I know he's not the greatest cook, but the wandering conversation and giving him easy tasks seems to bring my zombie-like friend a little bit of life back into his bones.

It's not the way it used to be, but it was better than before. Letting him work with his hands enabled me to focus on keeping Nick present in this moment, since he couldn't space out. It's enough to finally break the shell around him, after about half an hour of hard effort on my part. By the time the steaks are under the broiler, he's **almost** back to the Nick I remembered.

"I think there's a game on, if you wanna watch," I offer, adding, "The steaks are gonna take a hot minute. We've got time for the final quarter… " I hope football is a safe subject, as we head over to the couch. I sit just inside his personal space, close enough to let him lean into me, if he needs it. 

I don't pay all that much attention to the game, but neither does Nick, so it's not that much of a loss. He makes the first move, and leans into my side, eyes vaguely centered in the direction of the tv. I give him support, a firm place to rest, and I know it's not what I deeply crave from him, but… It's actually really nice, barely approaching the brink of cuddling.

"Thanks, Monroe." I look down in surprise as Nick takes a sip of his beer. He glances up briefly, and I see his guilt in his eyes. "I really needed this."

"Happy to help, dude."

I let him settle against my side, and I catch his scent, his odd, **perfect** scent that always puzzles me. It's one part coffee, one part musk, and like rose petals, almost, with hints of something sweet but earthy, maybe there's a hint of caramel there. I can't decide if it's a masculine scent or a little bit of a feminine scent, but it doesn't really matter 'cause it's **Nick**.

I wish I could keep this scent with me; it's everything my inner wolf craves, but, well, I know I can't. As much as I care about him, I know he will probably never see me in that light. I don't mind, I just savor every chance I get.

I just **know** that one day, Nick is going to find another woman; one that's a little bit like how Juliette was, kind and sweet. And he'll settle down with her, have a couple kids, and I'll be lucky if we go out for beers once every other month or so.

Really I just got to get my fill of his Nick-ness while I can, ya know? It's a precious commodity for me.

So I drink in his presence, getting my fill of his scent and the firm weight of him against my side. It's enough, for now, and pretty soon I get up to put the beer bottles in the recycling, and pull out the entrées from the oven. He follows me into the kitchen, setting a simple table while I plate up the food. I sneak a few extra helpings onto his plate when he's not paying attention.

He's too skinny; sue me if you want to, see if I care.

I grin at my close friend across the table, and I'm glad I gave him extra, he seems to be actually eating now. But, even with this phenomenal progress over the past few hours, I know leaving will just revert him to the empty shell of the Grimm I knew. And I couldn't let that happen, not on my watch. 

"Hey, Nick, if this place is getting to you, you know," I look up from my plate as I offer the best chance I think he could get to heal. "You know you're always welcome at my house." I take a hasty bite of meat substitute, trying to let it sink in. "I've got a few spare rooms, just pick one." 

" Seriously?"

I nod in response, the corner of my mouth lifting as he looks up. " Of course, man. I like my space, but sometimes it's a little **too** much space, ya get me?" I grin openly now, as he gives me a searching look. For a brief moment, the not-there thing in Nick's eyes makes an appearance, giving me a glimpse of what he used to be.

Just as quickly as it came, the thing vanishes, leaving a slight wall between us. He looks down, jabbing the salad half-heartedly. "I dunno, I don't want to get in the middle of you and Rosalee… I'd just cramp your style."

" What?" I nearly choke on my wine (expensive wine I might add) as the sentence crawls its way through my brain like a slug. "Me and **Rosalee**?" I sound like a parrot, as one face of confusion bleeds into the next. For the life of me I can't figure out what he means. 

"Come on, you know," he mutters, a soft flush of pink coloring his sculpted cheekbones. "I'm not as blind as you think, Monroe. I can see how you look at her."

Ooohhh…. **Crap.**

He thinks… Dammit. 

"Nick, I really don't see her like that. She's a friend, sure but…" I swallow nervously, cutting my steak as I struggle to explain just the right amount. "She really isn't my type. Honest." I grin a little, fighting a full woge when Nick gives me a genuine smile. His face usually does that to me, but especially his smiles. "I actually like guys a bit more than… you know, **women.** "

I couldn't keep it in forever. He was my friend. I can trust him. He wouldn't care.

All of those excuses I come up with after the words leave my stupid mouth. In the moment of idiocy, I only think of how bad I wish he could tell me he felt a little bit the same. That he had an interest in the same gender, as more than just friends.

But truthfully, I hadn't spared **anyone** much more than a glance once I'd realized how incredible **he** is. That everyone else was in grainy black and white, while he was in full on Technicolor glory.

And I wish I could have taken a picture of the undisputable **hope** in his face, when it registered with him. For like, a split second, he almost looks like he **could** want me, the way I want him. Or that he at least might have some sort of feeling very much like it. But then he **visibly** checked himself. He stopped whatever train of thought he'd had dead in its tracks, derailed it so completely it was hopeless to try to get it righted. 

I feel guilt twist my stomach, turning the food to ash in my mouth. "I didn't mean to just spring that on you like that, man." I force down the last bite of my dinner, washing it down with the suddenly horrible wine. "I know it's a little… I don't really… I'm not..." Every denial dies on my tongue, as I feel unable to take back the admission. I can't hide that, not if we're going to live in the same house.

"I swing both ways too."

If I hadn't had Blutbaden hearing, I would have never caught that lone scrap of hope I could cling to. I would have missed that whispered confession, and I would never know the best chance I have to hope Nick might see me differently.

But, fortunately, I **do** have Blutbaden hearing, and I heard his steady heart as he whispered that perfect truth. And I definitely saw the shy blush bloom on his pale cheeks. I have to admit that I really want to feel that warmth beneath my lips. I want to know what his blush feels like under my mouth as I kiss his cheek.

"So, you think you might want a change of scenery?" I ask meekly, trying to fight the way my heart wants to explode from my chest, and I at least **attempt** to tone down the beaming smile on my face. "I kinda worry about you, here all alone."

"I…" Nick looks between me and the house at large, a frown creasing the small patch of skin between his eyebrows. "I can't stay here… It's so..." His eyes turn back to me, guarded in a way I've seen a handful of times. "I don't want to burden you." 

"You won't."

Dinner doesn't take long to clean up, and I can't keep the grin off of my face. Neither can Nick, even though his is a bit smaller. I help him pack up his small number of possessions, the ones he wants to keep, at any rate. 

My inner wolf butts into my head as I'm loading the bags of Nick's clothes into his car. And he's ridiculously pleased **our** mate is finally getting to right where he belongs.

And **crap.**

It's gotten that far.

What was once a tiny crush has progressed to full fledged " **mate**." 

You have no idea how glad I am Nick can't hear my heartbeat like I can hear his. If he could, he'd probably think I'm having a heart attack. I swear, I think it's trying to beat right outta my chest.

My wolf side has **never** insisted on anyone being anywhere close to our mate before. Trust me, I've tried, multiple times, to get him to even notice a person I had feelings for. (Angelina, anyone?) God, he never even **blinked** when I just wanted some sort of response. And now all of a sudden he's obsessed with Nick of all people.

Of course, it might be because of my conscious feelings for the silly Grimm, how I can't **not** do anything he asks. How I could never ignore him **ever.** I might last, like, ten seconds, before rolling over. I'd all but asked for belly rubs in my quest to get him to like me.

Still wouldn't mind a belly rub. Maybe a little scratch behind my ears. I feel like a pup whenever I'm around him, begging to be noticed.

But seeing him getting settled into my spare room… Just **knowing** I can keep him safe, can take care of him the way my Alpha instincts demand I take care of my Omega… Not even an ice bath could calm the arousal coursing through my body. I can't even remember the last time I was this hard from **anything.**

My bed is soft as I crawl into it, and I settle down with one hand tucked behind my head, as my other one meanders down to my interested dick. I'm not really in a hurry as I pull myself out of my pyjama bottoms, just exploring the familiar planes of my body.

I mean, Blutbaden enjoy sex as much as the next Wesen, don't get me wrong, but we're no **Ziegvolks.** Then again no one could ever be as sex-crazed as a Ziegvolk. 

My eyes close as I map out the velvety skin of my dick, carefully avoiding the firm bulb of my knot swelling at the base. I really don't want to make this happen too quickly, and trust me, messing with my knot is a recipe for instantaneous orgasm.

Even without that, the lingering scent of Nick filling my nose, the perfect scent of my Omega... **fuck.** It's the best masturbating session I'd had since puberty. I swear my soul had attempted to escape with the spunk. And there's so **much** of it.

Seriously, like, double the usual amount. If I had any doubts about Nick being the one my wolf side had chosen, well, those flew out the window. Along with any hope I have of recovery from this free fall.

I curl up under my quilt after cleaning up the mess, the scents of my den, me, and the strong hint of Nick giving me a sense of utter calm. His proximity takes the edge off of my worries, but I wish he was in my bed, not just in my den.

Man, I have **got** to get this under control. And sooner, rather than later.

### ~ Nick ~

My first night at Monroe's is probably the first night I haven't woken up screaming since… since the funeral. Not being surrounded by Juliette's things, not smelling her perfume on the pillows… It certainly helped.

I settle back into the thick blankets once more, the wakefulness slowly abating. I glance outside through the window, looking at the crescent moon shining in the dark sky. It's so hard to identify this feeling. It's not **comfort,** but, oddly close to it, just the fact of knowing I wasn't so alone right now.

It's so close to the feeling of security I'd had, when Aunt Marie had been there for me.

The time when she'd held me close, I'd been twelve or so, and I had been so panicked about… about my first period. Up until that point, we had assumed my male equipment was the dominant system. The functioning one. But I'd woken up that one night with my blood seeping into my sheets, doubled up in the pain of my first menstrual cramps.

I've never truly told anyone that I'm intersex. Not until Juliette. Juliette was the first person I'd ever truly **told**. I never felt a need to, after seeing the specialist and getting testosterone supplements so my body would develop in ways I could be more comfortable with. I'd been terrified to see the soft swell of my burgeoning breasts at that tender age, and knew it wasn't something I would ever be fully ready for. I'd wanted to grow facial hair, not **those.**

I'd found every excuse in the book for the need to have the frequent visits to doctors; it'd become second nature after a while. To lie about what I was getting done, telling anything except the truth. I couldn't find it in myself to admit to Hank that I had to receive specialty implants every three months to deliver timed releases of hormones. Just so I would have the need to shave in the morning, and to keep my body firmly on the right side of masculine in appearance.

But Juliette had worked her way past every wall I'd built to keep people out. Every relationship I have ever had been in wouldn't see even the four month mark, certainly would never make it to the bedroom. Except the one with that woman, with her kind smile and gentle touch. She made it to six months, and then a year, and two, and so far beyond. Somehow she never ran because of my… my deformity. She had even found a part of her heart **willing** to sleep with someone like me, and she'd always insisted I brought her to an orgasm more often than anyone else she'd been with. I didn't mind the white lies about that, not really.

And I would never have another person like her in my life...

I realize I'm sobbing for the first time since her death as the light flicks on, and Monroe's footsteps cross the wooden floor. I register dimly that he's asking something, but I can't stop. I can't even slow the flood of tears being wrenched from my eyes, at the dawning of the truth. I wouldn't have a lover anymore. The only chance I would receive was well and truly gone…

A spark of something I'd thought I'd buried ages ago kindles inside me as Monroe draws me into his arms, holding my ravaged frame together in his sturdy embrace. I cling to him like a starfish, letting his body be the rock to anchor me in place. He was probably the furthest anyone could be from Her, but oh **God** did I feel grateful for that.

His uniquely wild scent fills my nose as I bury my face in his soft shirt, soaking the cotton with the salty tears I couldn't stop. His hands brush over my back in a way that's so **gentle,** and he never utters a word of complaint as I slowly quiet over the next hour. In fact he murmurs consolations and reassures me that I'm not bothering him. He keeps telling me it's alright, and I can't find the breath to tell him I know it isn't.

I know that a **real** man would never do this. That a man with **only** a dick between his legs would never break like I am breaking right now. I wasn't one of those, not a **man** , not while I was sobbing like a child in Monroe's arms, broken beyond repair. Not that I had ever been worth repairing, worth the effort required to love me.

Eventually I run out of tears, run out of the ability to cry. And I simply wait for the hammer to fall. I wait for the reprimand, the mocking words as we wait in silence for his reaction. I know I was pitiful, not even able to last a night without losing every scrap of worth Monroe ever placed in me. I couldn't even **silently** shatter, silent enough to let my friend sleep at least.

I tremble softly in his lap, as he continues to pet my hair, his hands rubbing my back at intervals carefully calculated to calm. I couldn't understand why he wasn't pulling away in disgust, but I was so weak that I hoped he wouldn't.

"You're gonna be okay, Nick. Maybe not right now, but you will." Monroe doesn't pull away, doesn't alter anything he's doing, as he murmurs words I hadn't expected. "It's healthy to cry, especially at this moment. I… I'm glad I was here."

I carefully look up into his gentle face, tensed and waiting for the punchline of the joke. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, and the disdain to make its appearance. I could picture his anger bottled up inside, while he did his duty, and then he'd put a space between us, because I was so despicable. 

"Nick, I'm not mad. I couldn't be mad about something like this." Monroe seems so genuine as he smiles, not even a spark of anger hiding behind his face. His slightly goofy and almost innocent grin makes my stomach twist in a weirdly pleasant way. "Don't be scared to be yourself." 

"Sorry for ruining your shirt." I look down at the drenched material, swallowing the tight feeling in my throat. I shift to lean against the headboard, and curl into my friend's side. "And for waking you up before sunrise." I jump a little when he puts his arm across my shoulders, a soft chuckle in his voice. I'm unaware I have any tears left, until one joins the rest of the water on my face. I finally realize how good this has always been. How badly I crave Monroe, his touch forever giving me a little thrill. 

It's not something new, or even kind of new, the way he can put me at ease. I won't deny the safety I feel, when he's around. It's partly because he knows the side of me that I could never tell Juliette, and partly the way he risks everything to be just my friend. He's never given me a reason to doubt him. He always can be trusted to save my ass in any Wesen fight I find myself in.

I've felt things for Monroe I'd never felt towards Juliette, not even in the beginning with me and her. And I know I shouldn't want him, I shouldn't want to be with him the way I do. But he's just so different than anyone I've ever met. It's a part of me, the way my heart started to beat a little harder when I'd catch him staring. I'd had to keep myself away, because I knew I would be betraying Juliette if I let myself feel the way I had been beginning to. That had been **months** ago. I've been trying not to let him into my heart for nearly a **year.**

But I couldn't stop myself from leaning into his side, not anymore. I refuse to deny the craving I have, and I let him give me the affection I need. 

I can smell him, the scent that I can tell isn't cologne, isn't anything other than his natural scent. I like the woodsy, sort of **wild** ness that he gives off, the opposite of how he appears. At first glance, I never would think of the raw power I know he has. The first thing I notice is how gentle he is. But then when it comes to it, I know he can tear apart anyone who wants to hurt me. He can protect me, in ways I hadn't been given since childhood.

There are times, fleeting moments when we're both splattered with blood and the haze of fighting hasn't left his eyes, that I feel myself grow damp from blatant arousal. Those times when I can see the beast he keeps so tightly caged inside and I want to know what it's like to be with someone like him. To be a part of his world, and be able to see who he is, without the forced constraints.

His raw power is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I knew that I had no chance of keeping my heart intact, when I saw the side of him that he keeps locked away. 

He can protect me, in ways I have only given and never received. And I understand without him saying it, that he could never bring himself to hurt me, in any way, shape, or form. I couldn't have built a person that suited me better if I ever tried. 

As these revelations pile up in my mind, Monroe holds me close, his peaceful waiting bringing me back to the here and now. I sigh, relishing the soft scratch of his blunt nails on my scalp. He chuckles as I tentatively lean into it, a low rumble in his chest like a purr.

"Think you want some coffee?" I look up at his words, jumping slightly after the silence. He gives me a soft grin, and nudges my shoulder. "Maybe a spot of breakfast?"

"Coffee… Coffee sounds amazing," I admit, weakly smiling as a spark of something almost seeming like pride lights up his eyes. "You always make the best."

"Black?" He asks as he shifts away, tender hope in his eyes. I nod, surreptitiously stretching my tired limbs. He smiles, almost reluctant to leave, and chews on his cheek. "It'll get better, Nick. I promise." 

"I know..." I murmur, as he leaves, waiting until his footsteps make the kitchen floor squeak to finish the statement. He wouldn't be able to hear it, but it was still just as true. "I know you'll make it better." 

I can feel it easing, the empty loneliness of my loss, as we sit in his sunny living room and share a pot of coffee and a blueberry and cream cheese danish. And I know it's him, that he's the reason I won't be alone forever, even if it never becomes romantic between us. He simply cares about the broken, defective Grimm he's saved in more ways than one. And I couldn't imagine anything more I could need.

  
  



	2. Chapter Two: Healing A Broken Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monroe knows how much his Grimm has improved since his timely "rescue" but... Something is incredibly wrong. 
> 
> Something to do with the date...
> 
> ***
> 
> Nick's yearly physical had never been easy, let alone pleasant. And now, without the only person he'd let into that part of who he is... 
> 
> He couldn't imagine Monroe wanting that part of him... But... Could he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! This one gets a bit dark, be warned.
> 
> Contains fairly graphic scenes of the average female physical. 
> 
> Fairly accurate for the feminine part of it.
> 
> And there's more heartbroken, devastated wanks.
> 
> Again, don't like, don't read. You've been warned.
> 
> It will get better for my bois. I promise.

***

### Monroe

Okay, okay. Nick has been living in my house for a whole month now. I've managed to keep my feelings to myself (for the most part, anyway) and I can see him coming back to life. I can tell he's finding a reason to get up in the morning, and I know it might **not** be me, but he **is** getting up. It's a little rough going, just a bit, and there are still a few mornings that begin in tears, but he doesn't have that sharp, sour scent of fear anymore.

And sure, I essentially treat him like my mate, **yeah**. I do his laundry, I cook dinner, yada yada yada. But I'd rather take care of him, and do this for him than actually tell him how I feel. I think maybe if I do these things, if I can demonstrate exactly how great of an Alpha I am… Maybe he might be able to see it, and realize how good I could be for him.

I'd do anything he'd ever ask, literally, **anything** , if it meant he could smile again. 

And occasionally, he does. He is beginning to give me the bits and pieces of how he'd been before, the tiny grins, and a quip here and there. He's trying so hard to get back to where he's himself again.

But there are a few bad days every now and then. Days when he's closed off and skittish around me. I don't really know what causes it, but it's like a curtain drops behind his eyes, and I can't reach "my" Nick, the Nick I know, not right then. He's like a frightened animal, jumpy and ready to run at the drop of a hat.

And I can tell today is one of the **really** bad days. He's so much quieter than usual, his eyes restless, like he's trying to watch for any hint of danger. His shoulders keep pulling in, as he curls up on himself. Almost like he's trying to make himself as small of a target as he can be. 

I try to handle it, and for the most part I do, but something changes later on in the day. I didn't know it was possible, but he seems worse.

Good thing I have Hank's number on my phone, because I don't know anyone else to call. Maybe Rosalee, but it's not really like some herbs and potions can cure this. It's like something in Nick's soul is scared of me, or maybe my reactions. He's almost made of glass, so fragile that I don't know how to fix this.

I've got a hinky feeling in my gut this both is and isn't about Juliette. Like she had always done something for him, and he needed that thing done really bad right now. 

The haunted look is back in his eyes, and somehow I can't reach him in there. I just want to show him it's me, it's **still** me, the very same Blutbad I've always been, the same friend I always am. But he looks so terrified of something, I can't bring myself to confront it.

I bet **Mars** feels my relief when Hank finally gets here, and I glance at our friend over my shoulder. Nick still is staring at the TV, and I know he's not watching any more now than he had been an hour ago. 

I'm really worried about him going back to work in the near future, if he's still feeling this way.

Hank wordlessly enters, a concerned frown forming as I grab the empty cup on the coffee table and get Nick something more to drink. He follows me into the kitchen, and I try, I make an honest attempt at keeping my cool with someone else in my den and my mate in distress.

"What happened?" 

"Do you think I would have called you if I knew?" I snap, scrubbing out a few dishes from dinner one more time. I do my meditative breathing for half a minute, focusing on being calm. "I'm sorry." I look up from the sudsy water, my face drawn in pain. "I just don't know what to do, and I'm scared for him."

Hank softens, nodding as I grip the edge of the sink. "Has this been going on a lot?" 

"No. Not really, maybe every once in a while." I breathe again, struggling not to woge and terrify Hank again. "It's never been this bad, man."

"I can tell." He looks back at the living room, where I can tell Nick is curled up in a ball on the couch. "Could ignoring it help? Act like nothing's wrong?"

I agree to try, and the air feels heavy, as I settle down next to my mate, letting Hank have the chair. It's more like making Hank take the chair, because with Nick like this, my instincts won't let anyone near him.

He's like my gravity, like the entire lynchpin in my universe and everything feels so freaking **wrong** right now. Like there's a piece of my world missing, and if I could figure out why Nick's being like this, maybe I could fix it, and the universe. He'd never been so missing, not even that first day I'd tried to get him back. And…

I know it's not healthy, but Nick has become the routine that keeps me sane. I gradually started to use him as my grounding force, rather than the pilates, the yoga, and the cello. He became the routine that keeps me from wigging out and chomping on someone's grandma.

Used to be that I'd get mad at him for interrupting my rhythm. Now he **is** the rhythm. 

And the only thing I can think to do is keep myself as close by as possible. I know if he breaks, if he falls from whatever ledge is teetering beneath him, I want to be there to catch him. To pick up the scattered pieces and make them fit back into a whole.

I literally have no idea how to fix this, he just looks like… He looks like he's an empty shell. He looks like Nick had stepped out of his body, and he'd be back when he gets some perspective.

And I go to bed that night praying to anybody who gives a crap that tomorrow is going to be better. Because I don't think I have it in me to handle it turning out to be worse.

### Nick

I feel a sickness in my gut; the horrible urge to run and not stop running until I didn't have to deal with this once so simple task almost incapacitates me. But, I have to do it. Somehow, I summon up every ounce of strength I have as I carefully lock the bathroom door, the morning of my gynecologist's needed physical, the one appointment a year that I could never truly face in my usual head-on, bold way.

And not having someone to help me get ready for it feels like a damn knife in my chest. It's never easy, trying to do this myself, but I'd rather shave my pubic hair on my own, than make Dr Orval have to deal with it. I'd had Juliette to help with this for so long that having to do it by myself seems like it's harder than it had ever been before her.

So, I guess I have to deal with this, alone now. I can't ask Monroe, I can't bring myself to admit that I am so obviously abnormal. So I lay out a towel on the floor, and nervously spread open my drawn up knees as my back rests against the tub.

God, I wish my hands would stop shaking.

I push the folds of my clit out of the way, trying my best to remove the dark hair around them. My soft member lays against my forearm as I deal with what's behind it. The razor gently scrapes my sensitive flesh, and I rinse it out in the small bowl of water as I make the last pass with the blade.

Picking up the small pair of scissors, I clean up the thick thatch of hair around my masculinity, and trim the sparse scattering of hairs on my small, pointless testicles, before accepting that this was the best I could do. 

The warm water of the shower wasn't enough to wash off the feeling of being tainted, but I don't think anything will ever make me comfortable in my own skin enough for that. I simply tried to get my intimate areas as clean as I could, with the ph balanced cleanser I used only for the parts residing between my legs.

The rest of my body gets a perfunctory scrub, not much more effort than washing away the light covering of nervous sweat the once monthly shaving of my genitals usually brought out. Once my scalp was given a thorough wash, I stepped out, the thick bath mat cushiony between my toes.

These visits have always been so… uncomfortable. Nothing Pat had to do truly **hurt,** but it bordered on humiliating, having to spread my legs open and be exposed so completely every twelve months since puberty. I'm just lucky **this** doctor was always doing his best to be gentle and efficient, **as well** as thorough.

But frankly I hated each second he had his light shining between my knees, and the few awful moments he had his fingers inside me, as he examined my reproductive organs by feel. The exam of my scrotum for suspicious lumps or irregularities was certainly almost tolerable, in comparison to that.

At least I had changed my doctor from the other specialist in Seattle I had been seeing for a number of years. That woman was often inclined to try to hold a conversation as she rummaged inside me, and her cold hands were a little unforgiving with the tender flesh of my balls. She certainly didn't have the same level of compassion for intersex individuals like Pat Orval had. But he also had a level of my condition himself, a blind ovary inside his body that offered no true function.

I tried to be positive as I gazed at my own body in the large mirror in Monroe's guest bath. It was difficult as I gave an honest effort to ignore what I knew was purely deformity, and see my body with fresh eyes.

I had worked hard to build a certain level of muscle definition to my limbs and torso, but I could never truly call myself "brawny". There was a level of softness to me, a type of curving aspect to my body that was only truly noticeable when I removed the clothing I always hid in. My pecs were not actually muscle in their composition, the roundness of my chest everyone assumed was from tireless hours hitting weights was actually soft, supple, pliant beneath my fingers.

The breast tissue that I never truly desired had a way of making itself present and noticeable as I examined my body. My nipples **could** be masculine in nature, though they were larger than the male standard. I rolled one between my fingers, stifling a soft grunt of surprise at the pleasure. The hard nub was a rosy pink in the mirror, and that certain level of interest my genitals displayed was prominent against my dark nest of hair.

I mastered the arousal as I glared at that part of my body that fully defied my desires, squashing it viscously. My small member was a pale color, as it limply dangled in front of the testicles that would never truly have a purpose, other than to provide sterile semen, devoid of even a hint of sperm. I couldn't bring myself to shift the decorations of my genital area aside, to the part of my body that my glare was truly directed at. The area that was where my biological children could come from, if I ever wanted to be a pariah in Portland, cast out of every social circle I was in.

I sigh as I pull on a pair of soft joggers, and a clean shirt before managing a comb through my hair. I suppose it would be enough.

Monroe is already in the kitchen when I make it down there, a fresh pot of coffee and a hesitant smile waiting for me. I try my best to return the grin, though I can tell something about it is wrong by the reaction on his face. I grab my mug from the cupboard as I feel the nerves get to me.

"I've got a thing I need to get to," I mutter, taking a sip of the rich brew Monroe could always be relied upon to make. "But I'll be back before dinner."

Monroe's eyes light up hopefully, as his small smile widens. "Does lasagna sound good?" He takes a nervous sip of his coffee, as I nod. "Be home by seven-ish?"

"No problem." I take a large gulp of the Columbian blend and pocket my wallet and keys. I look at Monroe, wanting so badly to be in his arms like he allows on those precious moments I succumb to my weakness. But I force down the want, taking one last swig of coffee before I leave. "It's just a physical I've got to get to, so I'm probably not going to be out long."

"You want some company?" He asks, eyes trying to catch mine. " I can be like your emotional support animal..."

I smile despite the longing for him twisting it's razor sharp claws in my gut. I know he's able to hear my heart stutter as I lie, but I can't tell him what I want to do. "I'll be fine. Keep the grub warm for me, buddy." I all but run out of the house, desperately trying to resist the need for his comfort.

I pull my sunglasses off of the visor before leaving my car, hiding my face against the crowds of people out on the sidewalk. The medical offices are quiet inside, the large building just one of many, and the nondescript door I pass through giving no indication of what I had to do.

I'm glad there's no one in the waiting room as I take off my disguise, and I give the assistant, Barb, a tight smile. She looks up from the stack of files on her desk, as I sign in. "Hey."

"Hey, Nick. How ya doin'?" Her motherly face crumples in sympathetic pain as I mutter softly. 

"I… I need to change my emergency contact..." I pull out the small note I had scratched down before leaving Monroe's house, with his name and number on it. For good measure I'd written the address, since I couldn't bring myself to enter the place I had once lived in now that **She** would never make it my home. "We're living together, for now."

"Oh, dearie..." Barb murmurs, copying the information into my file. "I'm sorry, honey." 

"Juliette isn't really in the picture anymore." I twist the stem of my glasses in my hands, fighting back the pain. "But Monroe's a good guy."

"Well, come on back, and Pat will be with you in just a moment." Barb opens the door to the rear of the office, showing me towards the exam room I typically resided in, during these sorts of visits. The easy part of taking my vitals was over in minutes, and I tried to pass off my weight loss as a product of exercise and dieting. I didn't feel like admitting I hadn't seen the point to food before Monroe got me on a regular schedule.

I know that I'd put back on at least ten healthy pounds, but I was still down another four from my last visit, just over three months ago. I hadn't realized how bad I'd gotten until that moment.

The familiar soft purple gown is waiting for me, and my fingers tremble as I tie it closed over my naked body. I drape the paper sheet over my lap as Pat knocks on the door. He's as soft spoken as he always has been, and I tell him about the changes in my life.

"Just take care of yourself, Nick. There's plenty of people who care about you." Pat gently feels the lump in my bicep, the implant I was needing replaced after my annual work up. "Seems like it's in good shape, and can be switched out now."

I nod, shifting to lay back against the vinyl mattress, the paper covering crinkling as I move. I let him guide my feet into the stirrups, the cold air hitting my intimate areas harsh and unpleasant. My knees fall to the sides as I spread my thighs as he asks, swallowing nervously as Pat adjusts the sheet for me.

"I couldn't get all of the hair off that I usually do, doc." I look up at the tiled ceiling, trying to ignore the noises of Pat getting the medical instruments and tools set up. My folds of skin down between my legs tighten of their own accord, nervousness causing my inner creases to spasm. "Juliette used to do the parts I can't really see."

I feel his hand pat my ankle comfortingly, as he says, "It's just fine, Nick. Don't worry, you did good. Some patients I've dealt with aren't half so considerate." I take a deep breath as the light adjusts, and the exam truly begins.

I try not to flinch at the sharp click of the bottle of lubricant opening. I **am** truly glad it was warmed before my appointment, as the plastic piece that opens my vagina slides in slowly, the excessive slickness of it causing virtually no pain. I clench my jaw, trying to forget the process that is taking place, and the small tools opening and scraping even deeper inside me, the plastic and metal instruments inserted deep into my inner cavity. Pat murmurs encouraging words as he seals the specimen jar, and I adjust my hips on the table.

"Okay, Nick, now comes the part that's a little uncomfortable. Just try to stay relaxed." 

I nod, my hands twisting the ties on my gown, and I force out, "I know, doc. I'm good."

The lube clicks open again, and a pair of warm, wet digits push into me, as Pat presses his other hand against the lowest part of my stomach, just between my hip bones and above my member. The sensation of his two fingers moving against my uterus and ovaries, pushed against them by his opposite hand is grossly familiar, and instills the same shame I always feel as he rummages in my vagina. 

I feel a twinge of pain as that hard protrusion inside gets pressed between the questing fingers and my walls, shifting it against its will. That part of my body that no man has broken yet. My physical **proof** of my undesirable nature. My unbroken hymen.

I exhale shakily, moisture pricking at my eyelashes as the fingers inside my body slowly withdraw. "You're doing so good, Nick, not much more to go." Pat changes his exam gloves as I force my body to relax, knowing the worst was soon to be over as the medical devices were removed from my entrance. I feel a small trickle of fluid escape me, as the plastic spreader slides out, making my throat convulse in displeasure. I knew if I asked, Pat would gently wipe my outer folds of the gel. 

I've never asked.

I try to ignore the exposure I feel, as Pat shifts my legs ever so slightly in the incredibly vulnerable position the supports force me into, my hips sliding even more open, and my member retreating softly in shame as Pat adjusts the lamp towards it and my testicles.

I make an affirmative noise, as he pauses, not much more than a low squeak from my throat. I take slightly slower breaths, as his fingers shift my phallus, examining the foreskin and the small slit beneath it at my tip. I try not to utter a sound, of any sort, as his hands check that part of me for any abnormal development. I've never experienced any sort of sexual enjoyment from his movements, wanted or unwanted, as his hands do this, in fact it's quite the opposite.

Almost through. Halfway done. I try to focus on that knowledge as his fingers roll my scrotum between them, and I cough in the method I am unfortunately well acquainted with. I breathe out a sigh of relief when his hands withdraw from my genitalia, and he assists my legs down from the supports.

Pat gently touches my shoulder as he stands by my side, always asking permission before each of the exams. I nod slightly, raising my chin to look at a brown water spot on the ceiling panel above me, and try to breathe as evenly as I can as he opens the gown to reveal my soft swell of wrong-ness. His hands palpitate the tissue of my breasts, as he searches out any lumps that might have been developed in the time since the last check. Luckily the amount of tissue there takes so little time to inspect, not much more than a few brief moments of pressure on the soft, elastic flesh of my chest.

"You did wonderfully, Nick, just like every year I've seen you." I hear the sound of his pen scribbling on the paper of my file, and I sit up slowly, wincing at the shifting in my inner pelvic area. It, again, doesn't **hurt,** but it's the discomfort of both knowing what had been done, along with the residual sensations of the procedures. 

"Is everything in the same sort of condition?" I ask hoarsely, my throat dry. I focus on his face, and the easy expression on it. He nods, even as he writes the report on my health.

"Okay, ready for the hormonal supplements?" Pat asks, pulling out a blue package, and the typical equipment. 

"Sure thing, don't want any more breast tissue sneaking up on me." I chuckle weakly at my own self deprecating joke, moving the sleeve of the gown out of the way for the few minutes it took to extract the old implant and insert the new. The sharp pain of the large, wide needle breaching my flesh I could handle easier than the exams' mild discomforts.

It's a matter of ten or fifteen minutes before I make my appointment for the three month mark with Barb, feeling better now that the ordeal was behind me for the upcoming year. I keep the card for the next visit tucked in a hidden pocket of my wallet, the office's phone number on the front in case of emergency. I can tell she sees the relief on my face, her smile reminding me of Aunt Marie in a vague and intangible way. Something about the hint of pride in her eyes maybe. I couldn't place it fully.

The feeling of a heavy weight lifts from my shoulders as I climb into my car in the nearby parking structure, and I take a moment to relish the year ahead, that I wouldn't need to have another man push his fingers in me when I don't want it, or someone who I wasn't truly close to touching those areas of my anatomy, whether necessary or otherwise.

I see Monroe's Bug in the driveway on my return to the house, the small car always giving me a smile on my face, because of its similarities to the nature of its owner. I adjust myself in the soft sweatpants, trying to settle the feeling of the exam lingering in my groin. It's almost forgotten by the time I step through the front door, replaced by a shy, sort of bashful quietude in me.

I head towards the kitchen, dropping my keys into the bowl where I leave them when I'm home. I try to think of something to say about the visit as I walk towards the raspy humming coming from the certain Blutbad cooking dinner. For once, I don't think of lies. I might leave out details, and anything that would make my friend shy away, but I don't make up the usual false stories I have to keep straight in my head.

I find myself smiling as I lean on the wall bordering the kitchen, and I watch Monroe as he happily hums and layers noodles and cheese in a baking dish. He's oblivious to the soft warmth blooming in my chest at his cheerful antics. I clear my throat after getting my fill of his happiness, a soft smile forming as he starts.

"Hey!" He turns, face split into a wide grin, as he dries his hands on his apron. "I finished the clock repair early; thought I'd get a head start on dinner." He pauses as he turns a large hunk of mozzarella over in his hands. " How'd it go?"

"Perfectly healthy. I'm good for a whole 'nother year." I grin, approaching his masterpiece of pasta and sauce, leaning into his side as he stands beside me. "Just hate the whole poking and prodding."

"That's never fun, I know." He returns the gesture, leaning towards me, offering comfort I hardly ever need to truly ask for. He sighs as he tucks me into his side, giving my slender waist a gentle squeeze. "Wanna lend a hand? Can't really mess up boiling noodles." I laugh, pushing him a little in a playful way.

" I can burn **water** Monroe," I joke, letting him teach me how to get the pasta cooked for the bake. I find myself laughing like I hadn't in months, and teasing him just as joyfully as he was razzing me. I felt so swept up in this utter domestic bliss, that I forgot the reasons behind the bad days I have. I forgot the world outside the walls of **our** home, and the fear of rejection as I blatantly **flirted** with my friend.

He bops my head with the wooden spoon as I taunt him with moving out, and he insists I stay with him forever. I look up into his hazel eyes… 

And I think about doing just that.

I can picture that, and how perfect it would be as he wipes a splat of sauce from my face, his thumb callused and rough on my blushing cheek. I'd deny it to my dying day but I know his eyes can see me in the way I had never known from anyone before. And I **won't** deny the fact I thought of kissing his scruffy beard far more than just twice as we cooked together, and played a game of checkers while our creation bubbled away in the oven.

And I couldn't help but moan in awe at how delicious it turned out, even without true meat in the dish. The tofu and vegetable crumbles **enhanced** the meal, rather than let it be a poorer imitation of something better. And his crinkly-eyed smile gave me butterflies in my stomach as he cracked open a bottle of wine, and lit candles on the mantle as the darkness beyond the windows kept our happiness safe in these walls.

I found myself in a blissful daze as I leaned against his chest after the perfect dinner, soft laughs bubbling up to my lips as he shared takes of his childhood in a cozy New England town, the same place he'd gotten his loveable sense of fashion. He laughs exhilaratingly after telling how he'd nearly lost his hand when he thought he could take on a timberwolf unshifted.

"Hmmnm." He sighs, his hand petting my shoulder. "Who woulda thought… me and you, a Blutbad and a Grimm, actually friends?" I feel a warm blossom of pride in my chest, that he put us together in that fashion.

"It all depends on the Blutbad," I murmur, craning my neck to give him a breathless laugh. I sigh, settling deeper into **my** Blutbad's arms. I could stay like that for hours, us tangled together on the sofa.

"Really think it all depends on the Grimm," he counters, a smirk pulling up his mouth. " Either way we're a really odd couple." He huffs, messing around with my hair, playing with its softness. "Couple o' nutjobs, maybe."

"Hey, it's like peanut butter and jelly," I insist. "Bet the first person to make those two things into a sandwich was called a nutjob. But it's a classic now."

" That's my favorite type of sandwich…" he murmurs, his eyes soft, full of something I think I **have** to have, and I just wait for the dam to break as we battle in our longing looks and comments, the touches and suggestions of wanting something undeniably **More,** with only each other.

I desperately up the ante and press my body deeper in his arms, and his big, rough hands are resting on my waist as he gestures, talks and gives me these burning looks full of promises of That **Thing** That I **Need** **.**

And with a sick feeling of dread in my belly I realize I'm so **hard** and **wet** and **weeping** for him to bend me over the couch and **Claim What's Only Ever His.**

I know he smells it with his damn Blutbad sense of smell but he doesn't even try to make any sort of move to take this further. He doesn't even put his hands on my hips, or my ass, or my breasts that are so sensitive against the rough polyester of my shirt as I all but beg him for it. He doesn't do **anything** , but only just looks at me like he's trying so hard not to do so much more.

And I can't tell what he's trying to find as he keeps searching my eyes for something I apparently don't have the ability to give him. And as I realize that horrible truth, I feel shame flood my face with heat. I'm all but giving him my hymen on a silver platter, but that's not what he wants.

I make a mumbled excuse as I pull away, untangling my heated limbs from his and stumbling to my bathroom as my vagina aches and **drips** in need and my cock weeps pre-come in my briefs. And I lock the bathroom door for the second time today as I shed my pants to push my fingers wantonly into my soaked clit. I clench my jaw, fighting back tears of pure need for **Him**. 

I can't control my labored pants as I fill myself with my hand and rock my body onto my fingers, my sticky cock leaving trails of fluid on my stomach as I fuck myself while silently sobbing. Why the fuck couldn't he just **tell** me? Why did he look like he wanted to mount me like an animal and make me scream his name in pure perfection…

And I give into the filthy fantasies of him touching my breasts with his callused hands, squeezing their soft swell of flesh as I moan in ecstasy. I picture his hard, thick, red cock sinking into me, of pressing into my pulsing folds of flesh and filling me like no one had ever wanted to. Of him roughly thrusting past that hard bulb of resistance and giving me the exquisite, intense, **perfect** **agony** of my hymen bursting under the assault of him brutally fucking into me. I soundlessly scream as the pleasure of that fantasy crashes through me, painting my belly with white ribbons of sterile semen and a soft rush of fluid cascading into the toilet bowl off of my thrusting fingers.

I take the fantasies further than I would ever dare if I was fully sober, as I ache for **my** Monroe. My fingers never have been what I need, but always the only thing I would receive to satisfy the desperation.

I picture him groaning in pleasure as he pushes into me, filling me again and again, and my body welcoming his seed in ways I'd never thought of wanting. I let the tears flow from my eyes as I picture those rough hands; hands so capable of giving me every type of pleasure I need, their calluses caressing my belly so swollen with his litter. I could almost feel his beard scratch against my skin as he lays kisses to the round, fertile proof of how much I want to hold a part of him in there, inside that part of me no one ever had been given. I know I would freely offer him that secret part of my soul.

As I shudder through the third round of my orgasms, I realize that he has no interest in that deformed area of my body. He sure as hell could smell how wet I was, and I'm sure he could feel my hardness poking in his ribs, and he didn't **want** it. He **couldn't** want this from my body. I'd been foolish to ever forget I'm anything more than a monster. I'd been blind if I thought I saw any type of life growing in the monstrous abomination of my womb.

  
  



	3. Picking Up The Pieces of Your Broken Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only thing that would ever keep Monroe from confessing how deeply and desperately he loves Nick is gone for good.
> 
> Now the only question is whether he wants to show Nick how desirable he is on the kitchen counter, or do it properly in the bed he's now calling Theirs.
> 
> Maybe both, and then probably every position they might be able to think of while they officially consummate their undeniable Mated status.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Galore!
> 
> Actually between two people!
> 
> And, as always, consent is the lovely thing that lets it happen.

### Monroe

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Nick is avoiding me as sure as I'm a Blutbad. I couldn't have been stupider, and I couldn't bring myself to just **tell** him. And now today he barely even looks at me without this sort of brokenness behind his voice, this type of shattering in his eyes every time we're briefly caught in the same room.

And I love him so badly that I want to behead **myself** for causing the pain he shows me.

I love him, and I can't tell him how much I **want** him, because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve him after what I had done. I'd wanted to just kiss his plump lips as he'd crawled into my lap, and I can't explain what I was thinking, not giving him what he so clearly was desperate for. I just wanted to kiss every inch of his skin and make him sob with the pleasure I give him from my fingers and tongue and dick.

And then that sweet, caramelized scent was filling my nose and he was hard and poking my side as he taunted me to claim him. And I couldn't bring myself to do that, to want what I knew he was offering, as he all but rutted against me because he wanted me – was **begging** me – to take him.

And now he's going back into the precinct, and I can't have the opportunity to show him how deeply I regret my stupid hesitation. And I just want to tell him how I've been in love with my perfect Omega for the longest time, and…

I catch his scent drifting down the stairs, and I feel my pants nearly rip as I fill out in a single second. His sweet, earthy, **perfect** scent is utterly mouthwatering in that moment, like nothing I'd ever smelled. Like a perfect, dripping Omega in full on desperation for my knot.

And I hear the soft whimpering of him **masturbating,** ** _again_** **,** as I palm my aching cock through my trousers, the hand not on my dick holding the table for dear life. Nick's moan of pleasure accompanies a soft, wet, sliding sound of skin pushing into skin, and I realize that sound is Nick fucking himself with his fingers and everything makes such devastating sense. 

Nick isn't just my Omega, he's my **Omega** , in every meaning of the term. Any doubt that still could linger gets forced out of me as I ejaculate to the scent of a pure, potent, feminine orgasm, perfect in its own right, made even more so by my name falling brokenly from his lips. I hear my mate's choked cry of pleasure that is so wrecked, I want to take that wet and slippery hand in mine as I give him what he truly craves.

I'm shaking like I am a freaking **chihuahua** as I come back to my body, and I hear Nick's soft sob, before he gets to the stairs. I try to formulate a plan of action, try to figure out something else that isn't me simply grabbing him by his perfect, child-bearing hips and kissing him senseless.

He pauses at the doorway to the kitchen, where I'm frozen in place, my eyes locked on the flush of sex on his cheeks, and the soft, swollen lips he'd been biting to hold in his moans.

I can't think of anything other than the need in his eyes as I stalk towards him, my own terrified and scarlet with how much I love him. He takes a small step back, backing up against the counter as I cup his face in my too-big hands, pressing my body against his soft form.

"Don't be scared," I beg, as our lips hover just a millimeter apart, and his silver blue eyes don't show fear, only desperate want. And I press my lips to his, nearly losing my humanity as he melts into it, submitting like I had only ever thought of in my wildest dreams. He mewls in soft need as I grip his hips and grind my dick against his belly, hard again in record time. My tongue slides into his pliant mouth, mapping out the soft flesh, and I swallow the tender moans of his need for me.

I growl softly in triumph as he bares his neck so I can taste it, my Omega hesitantly rocking into my body with quiet whimpers. I smell his fresh wetness leach into his pants, and I lift my mate onto the countertop as I mark his creamy neck with my soft nibbles on his flesh. His legs lock around me, and I'm thrusting against his soaked jeans, giving him so close to what we both long for.

"Call in sick." My voice comes out as a guttural growl, and I'm almost certain I've Woge-d and I don't care, he's **here** and so needy and I can't stop this total Rut from building in me. "Call in sick or we're both going to come in our pants, and I want that less than you." I pull my face back, and I can see how much he wants this, but I can also see how scared my mate is to get it.

"Monroe, I'm not even supposed to go in for a week..." Nick pants into my mouth as I nip at his lips, my pelvis grinding into his relentlessly. "I'd thought you didn't want me, so I just..."

"I want you so bad I can't see clearly."

Nick fumbles with the button on his jeans in his eagerness, and I simply tear the material in my efforts to get him naked. I moan as his heady arousal floods my nose, and I lick the mark I'd sucked onto his neck. He still has an edge of fear, as my hands run up his thighs, and I gently tease his dripping clitoris. "God, you're so perfect." The lips between his thighs try to hold onto my fingers as I ease them beyond their outer folds, thrusting in shallowly as he moans, wanting so much more than I was giving.

"I'm a virgin," he begs as I keep the teasing of his vagina going. "And I don't **want** to be one anymore, dammit."

I slowly pull myself back, nosing at his cheeks as I whine in my throat. "I want to do this right, Nick. In a bed."

"I don't care... **Please** , just fuck me already."

I lift my mate up, letting his partially nude body cling to me as I carry him to my bedroom, fuck it, **our** bedroom, and strip us both down to our bare, flushed skin. He's devastating against my nest of pillows and blankets, spread out like a painting in oils done by a long forgotten Old Master. I want to **worship** at his feet.

I trail my lips over the curves and planes of his body, leaving light marks, gentle bruises on his pale skin, and I nuzzle the soft swell of his tender breasts, sucking and teasing his nipples until they're hard, dusky buds. I don't relent until he's writhing beneath me while his wet groin is trying to take me into him at the completely wrong angle for anything pleasant. But, oh, it's perfect how badly he wants me.

I grip his hips, pinning them into the mattress as I take his hard, small member in my mouth with a deep rumble of delight. Nick cries out as I work my tongue under his foreskin, and dig into his slit to taste that essence of him. He spurts his pure release over my tongue as I growl triumphantly, and I take one of my hands into his nest of hair, petting the raven curls in awe before delving my fingers into his pulsing, dripping warmth. 

Nick's face looks like he had reached the point of ultimate bliss as I pleasure him in this manner. He moans in sheer delight as I press my fingers against his soft walls, as if it could be enough for him to have me in only this way. 

Yet I'm definitely not finished with just my fingers in him, and I stretch his waiting entrance for my aching dick. I feel my knot beginning to swell in anticipation, even before I enter him, his submission so divine. 

I shush him, soothing his cries when he whimpers in both need and discomfort, as I ease my almost-too-large girth into that virgin temple of his womanhood. His frantic eyes find mine, as the head of my cock pushes against his virginity, and I kiss his lips as he gasps at my unrelenting forward movement.

I push against the firm resistance, his body fighting my will, and Nick cries out in pain as I finally break through the hard protrusion of his fragile maidenhead. My eyes burn with red fire at my victory, and I can see the moment when Nick's pain melds into a feeling of utter bliss as I push myself even deeper into his welcoming body. 

"So good for your Alpha," I growl as I seat myself inside my Omega, feeling his walls ripple around my member in his delight. "So perfect, so **Mine**."

"Only yours." He rocks his hips into mine, his legs gripping my thighs as his ankles cross behind my knees. His soft pants are the food for my soul, like water to my thirst for his essence. I bring my hands to cradle the roundness of his buttocks, thrusting at a punishing rate into my mate's soft warmth and perfection.

His noises urge my pumping even harder and deeper as my knot pushes against him, trying to find purchase as it swells in his moist caverns. Nick looks frightened at the bulbous head of it pressing into his resistance, but I nibble his jugular, leaving the marks of my teeth to give testimony to his complete submission. 

"You wanted sex with a Blutbad, Nick. Do you think I'm called the Big Bad Wolf for show?" I pant harshly against his shoulder, the sound of my skin meeting his slick flesh so utterly divine. I growl softly as his body finally gives in to my insistent will to knot him, and Nick paints our bellies with his come, as a flood of slick flows from where we're joined.

I don't — I **can't** stop as I keep thrusting my cock into his tight, moist heat, my knot sending me to a new level of pleasure as I work it deeper into my mate. Just as much as I need to keep going, Nick can't stop his gasps and grunts as he braces his arms against the headboard for leverage. He's literally pushing himself back onto me, meeting my movements as I whine desperately for him, hovering on the brink of orgasm.

"Monroe… please… **Come for me."**

His soft, broken plea seals my fate as his grey orbs bore into my fiery red eyes. I roar deep in my chest as my knot gives into the blissful torment, and I spill my seed into his body, into his so **receptive** womb. It's everything I can think of ever wanting for the rest of my life and pure perfection incarnate.

I continue to thrust into him long after my orgasm wracks my body to the core. He feels heavenly around me as his body remains so pliant and responsive beneath mine, letting me take my pleasure from his tight heat. He allows me to push my still-swollen knot further inward, a soft smile of satisfaction lighting his face as he arches into my gentling movements.

I breathe in the scent of my deeply pleasured mate, so full of my seed. I nose at his cheek, rumbling happily as his body milks my knot like the perfect Omega that I'd known he would be. "So good for me, such a perfect mate." I feel his skin warm with his flush of pride, and his arms draw me to him, his tongue lapping at the sweat on my skin. "Perfect mate. My perfect, beautiful mate." 

"Mhmmm, baby…" Nick sighs breathlessly as I shift us to our sides, tied together by my manhood still firmly lodged within him, many minutes remaining before I am able to pull out of him. His eyes drift almost closed, and he rolls his hips fluidly as he purrs. "You like me, like this?" I sense his still hesitant reserve, and I thrust into him forcefully, punching a surprised moan from his lungs. "I can take that as a yes?"

"Nick, you're pure divinity in human form," I murmur, my hands running over his silky skin, and my eyes seek out his, searching for his acceptance of my conviction. He seems so shy, so… so innocent after what we'd just done, nothing like I'd expected. He's astounding. I can't stop my rumbling as he buries his head beneath my chin. "Mine. Just mine. No one else's. Never again." 

"Monroe, I… I love you. I hope it's alright."

I huff, cupping the back of his head as I take him further into my embrace. "I love you too, my Omega." I can feel his questions lingering about my phrases, and I adjust our joining, making the pressure on my sensitive member a little less overwhelming. "Blutbad tradition terms the dominant one in the relationship the Alpha, and the submissive one the Omega. It doesn't matter which is male or female."

"And… And you like me… like this, as an Omega?" His hand slips down to feel the fluids coating our groins and thighs, and I feel him cautiously exploring the planes of my lower abdomen, the firm vee of muscle between the bones of my pelvis. "You enjoy the deformity I have?" 

"It's **not** a deformity, Nick." I capture his fingers as they pet the trail of hair traveling from my navel downward, and squeeze them reassuringly. His eyes flicker to mine, curious and hesitant as I try to convince him of his beauty, of how much I desire his body's natural formation. "Back in the olden days, there was a pup or two in most litters like you. Male Omegas and Female Alphas aren't yet extinct, either."

" I…" Nick burrows into my arms, and I soothe the ache in his heart while my manhood softens slowly, eventually to the point where I slip from his vagina with a rush of semen and his fluid release. He makes a soft noise of displeasure, and for a moment I think it's from the way we have the mess coating us. I learn better when he squirms closer, his desire apparently that he had wanted me to still be inside his body.

I sigh, a gentle fuzziness to my thoughts as I bask in the glowing feeling of having just mated with the Omega my inner wolf had chosen. Nick stretches luxuriously against my side, sinuously winding his arms and legs around my limbs as he rejoices in our union, the lust having abated for the immediate future.

"I don't know if you're ever going to leave this bed," he grumbles into my skin. "Not when you can make me feel like this so easily." 

" And how is it you're feeling, for future reference?" I chuckle at his squirming as he assesses his bodily reactions. He seems to do a brief inventory of his range of motion, trying to be subtle about his soreness.

"Hmmnm. Sore, in the best way. Tired, but blissful. And **thoroughly** debauched."

"That's **it?** I must have done it wrong." I chuckle tiredly, combing through his hair as he arches into my touch. I crack open the eye not smushed into my pillow to see if he's grinning as well. "I guess it's been awhile since I had someone so incredible in my bed. By awhile, I mean ever."

" Flattery will demand you do a repeat performance, Mr Bedulf." 

" My **mom** calls me that, when she's pissed."

" You know most men are attracted to women who resemble their mothers."

" Listen, my little Omega, if you don't behave, I won't get us snacks before rounds two through seventeen."

" Yes, Alpha."

### Nick

I search the darkened bed for my boyfriend, my **mate** , after waking in the early morning hours. I grumble when he's not there, my fingers closing on only the sheets, sticky with the evidence of what we had been doing most of yesterday and a large portion of last night. I almost can't believe him, that he didn't want to wake up next to me.

However, I hear a sizzling, and smell something so sinfully delicious I accept his minor betrayal. I ponder whether he wants me to join him in the kitchen, but before I could find my arms in the pleasant softness of my bones, the light flicks on, and I smell the breakfast he brought me in bed.

"I love you." I crack open my eyes, crusty with sleep and grin into my pillow. " **I love you."**

Monroe only chuckles as I settle in a semi-upright position, and he piles some of the mountain of pillows behind me with a grin. "And how is my Omega this morning?" He rubs a trace of something from my cheek, and I catch his palm with my lips, a smile blossoming on my face.

"Missing his Alpha most dreadfully," I quip, patting the mile of bed beside me. I grin in delight as he chooses the place in front of me, and I wiggle my cold toes under his crossed legs. He returns my grin, taking my frozen appendages in his very warm hands. I blush as he gives me a look so tender I can't process it. Instead, I turn my eyes to the small cabbage rose in a bud vase on the bed tray, its soft petals a dusty pink.

"It's beautiful," I murmur, looking up briefly. "Was it from outside?"

"Well, that **is** where plants are usually found." I roll my eyes at his snark, giving him a glare before going back to the flower he went out of his way to get me. "And I think you're prettier, for the record."

"I thought I made it clear, my position on flattery?" I blush at his raspy chuckle, hiding my smile as I take a bite of the blueberry pancakes. I moan in surprise at the taste and texture of the dish, far from what I've been used to for my life so far. "I suppose I also have to find a position on foods too delicious to allow in my body."

"I suppose you do." 

He just seems so… My Alpha couldn't be this level of perfect. He has to have at least **one** flaw so I can feel worthy. Even the easy way he spreads my legs once my breakfast has been set aside, pushing into my still loose entrance is as if I had only been asking for the same thing he already wanted. I feel my wetness surge inside me, and he grins joyously while his hips piston into the fork of my legs. 

I laugh happily as he rolls us, so that I'm riding him as he eagerly pumps upwards into me, his feet planted among the pillows and blankets for extra leverage. I feel that strange-but-enjoyable part of his member pushing at me, at the tightness inside me and I sink even lower onto him, groaning in delight as that bulb catches inside. We slow, then, drawing out our respective pleasures before we begin to reach towards our eventual orgasms. 

"You know..." I pant, my hands bracing myself on his chest, as his palms rub my small breasts exactly the way I like. "You know… Eventually we might..." I feel a moan tear from my lips as his thumbs dig into the tightened nubs of my nipples, my face contorting in pleasure as my head tilts back. " We might have... to go out… in public… sooner or later."

His response is to knot me deeper than we had ever gone so far, and my orgasm takes us both by surprise, as I clench down hard while fluid flows from my clit, my hands slipping on his chest as I try to hold my position. I breathe through my nose, trying to slow my racing heart as he pumps his seed into me, still thrusting into me the way I want him to.

"Fuck, honey, that was amazing." My voice comes out as a wrecked croak, and I gasp for air. I try to catch my breath, as we move in sync, and soft moans slip from my lips. I feel the same former softness resettle in my bones, as I make myself comfortable lounging on his chest, lazily rocking my hips, his knot rubbing my inner walls so wonderfully.

"Nick, God," my Alpha rasps, his hands smoothing over my overheated skin, and his scruffy beard scratches on my sensitive shoulder. I listen to the steady pace of Monroe's heart, the rise and fall of his chest pulling me into a half dozing state. "I fear we might never leave this bed, if you keep this up."

"Keep what up?" I mumble, tiredly petting his thick chest hair that I fancifully think of as his fur. I hum, pleased, as he marks my neck again, adding to the numerous purple bruises on my skin. He huffs, and I can tell he's admiring the handiwork.

"If you keep being so perfectly **submissive**." His thumb rubs the curve of my jaw, and I crane my neck to allow him more access. He chuckles, and I clench my walls around him, panting happily as more of his warm semen flows into my body. "Dammit, Nick, I **adore** you, when you're so good for me like this. Perfect, perfect Omega, mine always."

" Wanna have your pups," I mumble, just as sleep overtakes me. "Wanna have a whole litter of 'em." 


	4. To Be Whole... If Only For A Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The huge revelation Nick had dropped like an atom bomb into Monroe's life was certain to leave the best kind of chaos in its wake.
> 
> But those two mates we're ready for a bit of chaos, or so they thought.
> 
> And for the two people, the Grimm and the Blutbad, a little chaos could actually bring peace, in the end. But only time would tell, if their Bond was the beginning of something even greater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut. 
> 
> And that's pretty much it for warnings.
> 
> Basically a smutty chapter full of feels and plot building.
> 
> Have fun!

***

### Monroe 

I can't stop the thought of Nick's half asleep words as it runs rampant in my head. He was probably just…

_God, Nick, you have no idea how much I love you, you foolish Grimm._

He said he wants my pups, **my pups,** inside him, and my head can't wrap around the sheer perfection that is my Omega. I know he couldn't have been in his right frame of thought, after the countless orgasms I'd pulled from his body and the drunken high of his sexual enjoyment. But I can't make myself forget that soft murmur, and I resign myself to simply watching his sleeping face as he curls into me that night, after another day of exploring each other's bodies with lips and hands and tongues.

I mean, **God** , I love him. 

I know, deep in that intense, animalistic part of my soul that this ineffable man was the rarest Omega of all. He was the true mate, the soul my own calls out for in deep and unknown ways, unexplainable to anyone who has never felt this sort of Call.

Every Blutbad has a mate, another, generally Blutbad mate that their inner wolf chooses. But the rarest of rare Blutbaden have their mate chosen decades before they meet. Even if they don't realize it at first glance, the other half of their soul can never be forgotten. 

And, now, as I gaze down at Nick's peacefully sleeping face, I know beyond any shadow of a doubt he is my True Mate. And I will kill anyone who harms him.

He slips his leg between mine as he slumbers on, his soft, innocent member pressing into my thigh, and a little wetness touches my bare skin from his naturally damp vagina. I sigh softly as I attempt to get some sort of rest, but I know I can't. Not with this knowledge, not with with knowing I won't have my Omega tomorrow. Coupled with this new realization, I know my inner wolf will be pining for my True Mate, from the instant I can no longer hear his heartbeat.

So much for the watch repair I needed to catch up on.

But my mate had decided, had firmly **chosen** to go back to work, and I suppose it would have to be acceptable. I know he enjoys his work. I simply don't want to let him leave me, even temporarily.

But I can't keep him trapped in my arms every second of the rest of our lives, and we **will** have the evenings, I know. But I just feel my wolf side pining **already** , just at the thought of my mate being so far away from our den. My inner Alpha certainly does **not** like the idea of him going into dangerous situations like his job calls for.

But to tell you the truth, he's so sexy with his gun in his hands and that fire in his gaze.

Yeah, I'm mated to the hottest Grimm there is. No big deal.

And I know he could take me out, if he ever wanted to, he's that good. But he **doesn't** , that's the thing. He **chooses** to give me the submission of an Omega, it's his **choice** to let me push inside his body and put my seed in his not yet fertile womb. And I know that I can never abuse his gift to me, the gift of his perfect submission. He has everything he needs to kill me, any time of day, and yet he leans into my simple touch, his eyes begging for more.

And let me tell you, the insane level of pure sexiness that it gives him is… God, I could pop a knot in my pants, completely untouched, with the single thought of how easily he gives me himself.

And his desire to carry my litter is a whole different level of pure perfection that I almost don't know how to respond to it. Heck yeah, I want him so round and beautiful and full of my pups. I want him to look so well and truly mated, so big and happy with his full womb, ripe with my seed. I feel my dick getting a little hard even just **imagining** that miracle from my Omega.

And those thoughts, those suggestions of how perfect it would be for Nick to get pregnant, to have **my** litter growing inside of his belly, they keep me awake until the sunrise colors the room in soft, golden light. And I can't stop looking at his body, the body that contains the miraculous ability to bring new **life** into the world.

I smile, despite the worries in my chest of how the world outside would see my Omega, on the one day he will begin to swell with my offspring. If I needed to, I would tear every civilization to ashes and dust, if it would bring him acceptance from those that remain.

I trail my fingers over the soft curves of Nick's stomach, a soft look of wonder lifting my cheek at his silky skin. He shifts under my touch, bordering on wakefulness as I marvel at his body. He is everything I have ever craved in a mate, everything I have ever dreamt of wanting. I almost don't believe I'm worthy of his love.

I feel tempted to taste his womanhood once more, as he shifts under my touch, bordering on wakefulness. The thought of slipping my tongue between his slick folds, I have to admit that I feel saliva pool in my mouth at the fantasy. But, instead, I press soft kisses to the slight mound of his stomach, the soft flesh rippling under my attention. Nick, I know, is awake now, and the wolf in me delights in the way he presses into my touch with quick, trembling breaths.

"I have work..." He murmurs, shifting his hips to meet my touch, a soft hesitancy behind his actions. I kiss his belly button, before settling my head so that it's pillowed on his slender abdomen. His fingers toy with my hair, softly petting the slightly curled strands.

"I know," I admit, sighing softly against his creamy flesh. " Did you mean it?" I stroke the curving dip of his hips where they protrude above the swell of his stomach, and I try to avoid his eyes. I know he understands what I'm asking about. He has to know the effects of his words.

"Yeah." I press my face into him, kissing Nick's soon to be fertilized womb. "I want to have a litter. **Your** litter. But..." I move on the bed to draw him against my chest, wrapping my body around his precious frame as I smell and sense his unease. My instincts scream at me to offer comfort, even without knowing why it's needed.

He trembles the most miniscule amount, his head tucking under my throat. I long to soothe the trembling fear in his heart, even though I can't fully drive it away. "But right now, I'm receiving testosterone through an implant," he explains. "In three months, I'll be able to ask my doctor if I can receive a few boosters of estrogen instead, at least until I ovulate."

"You really want this? You want everyone to see your belly swollen with my pups?" I swallow as he nods into my chest, and a loving sigh falls from my lips. I kiss every inch of him my lips can reach, murmuring soft, sweet nonsense of how much I love him. Of how perfect my Omega is.

How perfect my True Mate is.

***

"Nick, you are the love of my life."

I look into his silver-blue eyes, as I watch him pull on his leather jacket, his gun and badge strapped to his hip. I sip my coffee, my bare skin tingling as he looks at me with such **want**. "And I expect you home in one piece. I'll have dinner waiting." I sip my coffee again as he hesitates by the doorway, and I lean against the wall for support as he nods. It's so difficult to simply stand here as he prepares to leave me, my wolf almost can't take it.

"I promise, I'll do my best to make it home in time." 

With those words, Nick leaves me, walking away with pure regret in his eyes, and I don't move until I no longer can hear the unmistakable sound of his heartbeat fading away from my earshot.

Only then do I let loose the mournful howl, so that all may hear my love for my mate.

### Nick

The world seems to have shifted subtly off of how I remember it being, as I go through the motions of what should have been another day at the precinct. I know there's nothing about my looks, nothing that could give away this fundamental shift in my life, but it feels like somehow everyone can see. And I know that it's in my head, the idea of everyone looking at me differently, but I hold my ground, just in case.

I try to behave the same way I had before Monroe shattered every expectation I once had for my life, both before and after what had happened with Juliette. I keep a calm exterior as Hank and I handle a run of the mill robbery, while my mind drifts to how much things in me have changed. 

I can't stop this desperate longing to return to Monroe, to be in his arms again, as he soothes the restlessness in my soul. I feel almost unbearably incomplete without him, as if I'd left a piece of myself with him.

It's utterly confusing, but something lingers in my mind that it's right. That I don't have any reason to fear this need for my mate.

Hank seems to be **actually** able to see a difference in my mannerisms, after a period of time, his eyes following me briefly as I slouch in my desk chair. I type up the report that the Captain expects, trying to avoid his smirk as I shift in the uncomfortable chair. My inner walls ached with the relentless pleasure Monroe had taken and given in them, and sitting still was like a task in itself. I **needed** him, **again.**

"What?" I growl at him, after he chuckles knowingly. I shift my hips again, trying to find a position that took the pressure off of my sore vagina, aching with the longing for Monroe to fill me once more. A mirror to the ache in my chest at our separation. "If you want to say something..."

"You look like you took it up the ass one too many times in the past few days, Nick." I glare at his amused smirk, pressing the keyboard a little more forcefully than strictly needed. "Did you **like** it at least?" 

"Yeah, I did, so what?" I feel my cheeks flush a light pink as I try to forget how close he was to the truth. I shoot him a warning look as he opens his mouth to make another remark. "Can you **not** comment? It's a little bit personal, don't you think?"

" Sorry, man," Hank concedes, shrugging as he goes back to the file he had started. "How does Monroe feel about your late night activities?" I blush deeper, the memory of his praise cropping up in my mind. I try to not think of how many times he used superlatives in describing me, and the way I felt around him as Hank seems to search my mind for answers.

"Monroe enjoyed what we'd done, as well." I press my lips together to halt any other confession from slipping out. My eyes flick to Hank's raised eyebrow, and I look away just as instantly. I feel a touch of guilt curl in my gut, feeling that usual sense of wrong-ness about my body briefly return. I tried to hold onto how my Alpha had all but worshipped the place between my legs, both of the organs getting equal attention from his lips and tongue. The feeling is slippery, difficult to keep, as his voice is so far from me now. I almost whimper at how badly I need him.

"I knew you'd get your head out of the sand eventually." Hank's comment puzzles me as I look up from my computer, a frown drawing my eyebrows together. My partner only gives me a wise, knowledgeable nod. "He's like a puppy around you." 

I fight back a laugh from leaving my lips, and Hank catches the irony of his words in a matter of seconds. I reluctantly grin, leaning back in my chair, still uncomfortable, but the knowledge that the day was drawing to an end took the edge off of my desperation. "I'd liked him beforehand, you know." I pause to chew on my lip, wondering how much to tell Hank about my feelings for my Alpha. "I just didn't think he'd feel that way about me, too." I'd been such a fool, at that thought. As if my Alpha would want anyone else.

"You're a catch, man. Anyone would be lucky to have you." Hank chuffs, and caps his pen as we settle in our chairs, the longest part of the day over now. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold it together, and I look away from everything in general as Hank seems to peer **into** me. I don't enjoy this sensation of being analyzed, and I shift in my chair again, the emptiness inside building again.

I check my phone, glancing at the time on the screen idly. "Glad today's almost done." I murmur, smiling as I read the loving texts again, Monroe's words bringing back the feeling of being whole. The tender messages fill me with a soothing relief for the other emptiness, not the physical one, but the one in my soul. "I'm gonna head on home, where a hot meal and my Blutbad lover wait for me." I grin as Hank waves, pausing as he adds one last remark.

" You seem a lot better, Nick. Tell him I say thanks." I look over my shoulder as I shrug on my jacket, and Hank grins sincerely. "He brought my best friend back."

"Monroe's done a lot more than just that," I reply, picking up my keys, knowing Hank could never truly understand how much healing Monroe has given to my being. " But I'll let him know." I give a final wave, before stepping out of the precinct at last.

I almost want to break the speed limit, as I force my foot to only **gently** press the gas, and the streets crawl by, people, cars and shops blurring in the soft rain hitting my windows. I have a sense of eager anticipation curling low in my belly as I make the turn onto our street, soft beads of moisture seeping through my clit and into the cotton of my briefs, the empty feeling ravaging my body. I was finally home, safe where my Alpha would care for my bodily desires.

I know he could smell my leaking clit as soon as I exit the warm car, and I refuse to take my time, walking swiftly through the downpour. My hair drips into my eyes, as I unlock the front door, and I grin at the glowing, hungry eyes of the silhouette of my mate through the stained glass panel.

Monroe's lips are on mine as soon as I clear the doorway, and I feel his firm flesh pushing into the space between my legs as I find myself pinned against the quickly slamming door.

Yes. This. This is what I need. I need my Alpha inside me, claiming my body like no one else ever could.

I moan without holding back as we don't bother to even fully undress before rutting like animals. He turns me to face the snarling wolf of his family crest, set in the window of the door, and his mouth latches onto my neck from behind. I feel how hard he is, after waiting so long to touch me, and I let loose my needy sounds of affirmation, letting him know how much I need him.

This is what I had been craving all day, since the moment a piece of my soul splintered away as I walked out of our home.

I brace my hands on the wood of the door frame as my loving Alpha presses his fingers inside me eagerly, and I push my hips backward into the forceful digits, his low growling making my body so hungry for my mate. I stutter out nearly incoherent words to the effect of my readiness, when I know I can accommodate his glorious cock.

I cry out in pleasured shock as he slides into my wet vagina in one swift thrust, filling me so deeply I swear I feel him in my throat. I waste no time with silly things like letting my body adjust to his girth, instead begin fucking myself onto his cock and letting him know how I need this. Hard, rough, brutal. I'd missed him so badly that I needed to feel him forcibly claim my body as his. As it always will be. Only his.

He grunts, his teeth gently pressing into my shoulder as he **takes** me, his crushing grip on my hips the perfect type of pain, leaving the bruises I hope will last for **days.** I feel a shimmer in him, a shift in my mate, as he relentlessly pounds into my so welcoming body, and it makes me sob in pleasure. I know that he's made the change; that he's so pleased with the utter submission of his Omega he can't help his instincts. That I satisfied my Alpha so purely bring me to a desperate orgasm.

I scream in ecstasy as his knot catches inside me, bigger than it had ever been before, and I clench it repeatedly with my internal muscles as I violently come for the second time, spurting semen over my stomach once more, and gushing slick around him. I moan at his continued assault of my walls, panting desperately while I try to give him every pleasure he deserves.

I hear his snarl, the true snarl of an **Alpha** Blutbad, as he pumps his release into me, my cries of bliss almost quiet in comparison as the liquid fire of his seed rushes to flood my insides. I feel the soft shimmer of his body inside mine, as Monroe returns to the humanity he so often clings to. The sharp stretching of his knot inside me eases up the smallest amount, shrinking as my Alpha comes back to his preferred form.

"Welcome home, Honey." He trembles against my back, and somehow we manage to maneuver our connected bodies onto the couch. My chest rises and falls with my gasping breaths, and I keep my inner walls milking his still-so- **wide** knot; laughing, breathless and spent. "I made dinner..."

"God, Monroe, I needed that." I rock my hips into him, as his large hand rubs my come into the skin of my stomach. "I missed my Alpha so badly." He makes that rumbling in his chest, the sound of the pure delight that he finds in my body, and of how much he cherishes my submission. And I know he is the only person I will ever offer it to.

"Well," he murmurs, nuzzling my exposed neck as I crane it to the side for his access. His teeth scrape my skin, and I shudder through an unexpected aftershock of bliss. I can't help the needy noise that becomes lodged in my throat as he holds my stomach, petting the soft flesh tenderly. "You're sure about—" 

"Absolutely." I sigh happily, as he possessively licks the fading marks on my skin, his beard rasping against my flesh. "I don't care what others think. I want your pups to grow inside me." His gentle noises of pleasure fill me with pride, that I can be a good Omega, despite the abnormal condition of my body. That I might be desired, not in spite of who I am, but **because** of who I am.

"Have I told you lately that I want to worship you?" Monroe noses my cheek, his facial hair tickling my earlobe. " Or how badly I want everyone to bow down before you, as you take your place as the rightful queen of the world?" He kisses my jaw, holding me against his chest as I try vainly to keep his softened manhood inside my body, knowing he still would slide from where he belongs. I know that the emptiness is waiting the instant he leaves my body.

I whimper in my displeasure, as his spend trickles out of me, no matter my efforts. "You are a deity on Earth, and the world should beg for your mercy." I chuckle reluctantly at his words, feeling his love for me shining through them and filling up my soul. "Perhaps I can build you a massive temple, so that you can sit on a golden altar and have the adoring masses give you the type of devotion you deserve."

"Monroe?" I ask, hesitant to bring up the subject, but knowing that it was undeniably needed. 

From the moment I laid eyes on him, I'd felt something different bubbling in my chest. At first, I only thought of resisting this new desire, I'd only thought of what I was going to lose, if I kept up this unbearable drive to seek out Monroe. But now, now I needed to know if this sort of instinct wasn't something I could ever **have** resisted.

If for some reason, I'd chosen Monroe long before we'd met.

"Yes, my lovely Omega," he purrs into my ear. I can hear the smile in his voice, and even without thinking, one spreads across mine, as I play with his fingers.

"Is there something more to what we are," I frown, struggling to phrase it correctly, "I mean, could there be a stronger bond than simply mates?" 

Monroe rumbles softly, a throaty rasp that I've so often heard him make, but don't truly know the reason behind. He shifts us, so that I'm sitting curled against his chest, cradled protectively in his arms. I feel more safe and secure than any other moment in my life, as he tucks my head into the hollow of his throat.

"What you're talking about is a True Mate, Nick." Looking down at me, I sense a secret waiting to be shared that lingered in his eyes. His hand strokes my side, running under my henley and down to my naked hip as he searches for words. "They're rare, beyond rare, and no one's ever had a True mate that wasn't Blutbaden." He looks down at me, his soft mocha eyes shimmering with love. "Until us."

"What does this mean?" I stroke his coarse beard, looking into his deep eyes, searching for answers only he could give. "For us, for everyone?"

"I don't know." He kisses my forehead softly, and I pet the soft material of his simple shirt, pursing my lips. "What I do know is that I can never abandon you, I can never bring myself to harm a precious hair on your head, and I will always cherish you, body and soul."

I hum as his words seep in deep under my skin and into my bones, knowing they were born of his pride in my body, and were instigated by how much he loves me. The True Mate's bond was something I couldn't deny, this sense of devotion I feel for my Alpha undeniable.

I feel the warmth of his affection make a nest in my chest, fanning a small flame borne of his love. I just wish I could carry it with me always, that the unease of the outside world's opinions wouldn't return to undo his rebuilding of my fragile heart.

I don't know exactly how long we lay in the soft bubble of our happiness, before my rumbling stomach guided us to the kitchen. Nor how many different ways he vowed to dominate the world to put me in the exalted place he insisted I was born to hold as my own. I'm certain the count rivalled the number of stars in the sky.

I **do** remember the soft glow to his smiles as he fed me a dish I will never be able to name, but the love I tasted in it causing my body to welcome him into me again. Our remaining clothes were quick to be discarded on the kitchen floor, and my torso was lifted onto the counter as he buried his face in the fork of my legs. His hardness was firmly denied, instead he drew his pleasure from his desire to taste the nectar of my womanhood. I'd sobbed in my overwhelming joy, just from his tongue simply fucking me so perfectly.

I also can't help but remember how his strong arms gathered my exhausted, devastated body into them, carrying my limp form to our bedroom. I remember the tender way he laid me down in our fresh bed, as he made sure and certain he was keeping me safe from the nightmares that so often tried to return as I slept. He was my guardian, of my soul and my heart, and he would always do his best to keep me safe.

And in that peaceful night I dreamt of small hands held tight in mine, of multitudes of tiny feet pattering on our floor, and of so many sets of big scarlet eyes looking at me like I had hung the stars in the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are my bread and butter, and kudos are food for the soul. 
> 
> Leave some so I don't starve! 🙃


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